Keep
by moonsdoor
Summary: "Fuck you." Oh, I know it was a mistake. A mistake in the string of many, and the night was not over yet. Bane/OC.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: John Daggett is a character in DKR and belongs to Nolan. Some of the dialogue is taken directly from the movie._

* * *

Keep

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Times like these, I wanted to jump out the window and dive right into the city lights. Instead, I turned over in the empty bed and sank my head in the pillow. Alone. So good to be alone for a while. His cologne still clung to my skin. I'd rub it off in the shower. Last week, he had me against the wet tiles. It hadn't been terrible, but I grew hoarse trying to convince him I was enjoying myself.

I hoped whoever had got him out of bed would keep him there. I was dead tired.

Couldn't fall asleep, though. He was talking to someone. Arguing. The conversation must have gone south quick because I heard him whine and shout. He had a short temper. Of course, his business partners had never seen him lose his cool, but I had and...whatever was going on in the other room must've been serious.

I checked my phone. 2:24 AM. I wanted to get some fucking sleep. I'd have to wake up early and leave. Daggett hated when he found me here past sunrise.

Grabbing his silk robes and pulling them around my body, I left the bedroom.

* * *

" - how exactly is that supposed to help my company absorb Wayne's?"

Daggett was getting pretty riled up. I couldn't see who he was hollering at. I climbed a step further down the stairs. All I saw was the massive bulk of a dark figure.

I took another cautious step. Not cautious enough. The floorboards squeaked under my feet. I winced.

Daggett turned around and his eyes found mine. I held my breath, waiting for his anger to be directed at me for eavesdropping. But instead, a look close to relief crossed his features.

"Maura…you're awake," he said with a catch in his voice.

"_Leave us_."

I flinched. That _other_ voice. It didn't sound human. It was smooth, but alien. I could see him now. He was wearing a hideous mask over his face. A face I'd seen on the news for weeks. They called him Bane.

_Fuck, Daggett. What did you get yourself into?_

"Maura. Stay. Come here," Daggett pleaded, raising a hand towards me. "I'm in charge."

I should've run back up to the bedroom, but I was afraid that would be the wrong move. Any move seemed _wrong_ now. So I held my breath and started walking towards him.

"Do you feel in charge?" Bane asked in a bone-chilling manner, placing his hand on Daggett's shoulder.

I froze, not knowing what I was supposed to do. Call the cops? Not likely. Run? Where? Scream? I opened my mouth but no sound came out. I realized I was paralyzed with fear.

"I've paid you a small fortune," Daggett moaned, trying to move away from him.

"And this gives you power over me?" Bane challenged, his eyes boring down on him with terrifying intensity.

Then, suddenly, his eyes were on me, surveying me like a slab of meat.

"You don't even have power over your _whore_, no matter how much money you spend on her."

I instinctively scowled, pulling the robes tighter around me. "I'm not –" But I thought better of it and shut my mouth. I _was_ getting paid, after all.

He turned back to Daggett and grabbed his cheek. I saw him tremble.

"Your money and infrastructure have been important... till now. I'm Gotham's reckoning. Here to end the borrowed time you've all been living on."

I'd never heard a henchman – if that's what he was – talk like this before, like he was some kind of demented prophet.

But it was Daggett's reaction that unnerved me more.

"You're – you're pure evil."

Those were big words coming from a guy who, as far as I knew, liked to destroy other people's lives for profit.

Bane's eyes crinkled. "I'm _necessary_ evil."

And then I saw it in slow motion. Bane's hand going to his neck while the other hand remained fixed on his jaw. The strange thing is, I heard the snap before I saw him do it. But I _saw_.

"Stop!" someone shrieked in terror.

I realized it was me.

I cried out when Daggett's body fell in a heap on the floor. I couldn't close my mouth. My eyes were dry, but my mouth was filled with bile. A man had just died in front of me.

Bane stepped over him like he was nothing. An ant or a worm.

I had to run. Get my body to work again. I had to move out of his way. I stumbled back, reaching for the banister.

He was getting closer. I put my hands over my throat, afraid he'd wring my neck too. This deformed monster was going to kill me.

But he stopped two feet away from me, and stuffing one hand in his pocket, he took out some bills.

"In case you do not receive compensation for tonight's work," he drawled, letting the bills drop at my feet.

I grimaced to think the hands that touched that money had killed someone. In that moment, I wasn't thinking straight. I forgot myself. Stress of shock, I'll never know. I grabbed the bills and threw them back at him. They hit him in the chest and fell like dead leaves all around him.

"No thanks," I spat, pushing myself up the stairs.

Bane raised an eyebrow, scanning me with obvious disdain. I felt my blood grow cold and warm at the same time.

"You should take it. You will need it when Gotham is no longer the refuge of the corrupt."

He was implying I was corrupt, part of a dirty system. He had just _killed_ someone, but he was making me the bad guy.

"Fuck you."

Oh, I know it was a mistake. A mistake in the string of many and the night was not over yet.

But I was thrown off-balance when I saw no anger in his eyes. No resentment. He was observing me like a mortician looking over a corpse. I could feel his eyes roam from the top of my head to the soles of my feet.

"You ought to learn respect, child."

To think, hours ago I'd felt like jumping out a window. Now it seemed my wish would come true. In a way, I had expected my reckless ways to get to me, eventually. All these years spent frivolously, emptily. Partying, drugs, booze, sex, penthouses, old men, self-loathing, self-love, repeat.

"You don't deserve respect," I spat, my eyes traveling reflexively to Daggett's still warm body.

"And you do?" he returned coolly.

I wiped my eyes. Still dry. My mouth still filled with bile.

_I'm not a murderer_, I was going to say, but I felt I had reached my quota of boldness. And when that happened, I usually resorted to groveling and begging. I didn't know if I'd have the strength, this time around.

"Barsad," he called out over his shoulder.

A bearded man entered the living room with purpose. He stopped in front of Bane and nodded his head deferentially.

"Take the girl back to the safe house."

I balked. "Wait, what –"

"Silence her," he ordered and I saw the bearded man come towards me.

I shrieked and turned around, but he caught me by the elbows and placed a hand over my mouth. Struggling against his hold was proving difficult when all that covered me was a robe and my muscles were already strained from Daggett's demands.

"She saw too much. Kill?" I heard him ask Bane, as if my life was the weather or lunch.

"_Keep_," Bane replied instead.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you for your reviews, I am grateful you gave the story a chance :) Thanks to anonymous reviewers **Guest-1**, **Guest-2**, **K**, **Renfox** for their encouraging comments. _

_I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

Keep

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The bearded man tied my hands to my back and blindfolded me. He wasn't very gentle about it, but I'd been tied before, under different circumstances. He grabbed me by my shoulders and dragged me out of Daggett's home. I was thrown into the back of a car, shivering from the cold. I was still only wearing the robe.

My mind was numb. It always went to that empty white space when I was in a position I didn't like. It did the same now. I could wander there for hours without really facing the danger around me. My body was still afraid, though. Little shocks and tremors ran through me every time the car stopped. I thought we'd never stop.

It was hard to imagine that I started the day contemplating what to ask Daggett's cooks to make me for lunch. And now he was dead. I knew he had been embroiled in some nasty affairs, but I never thought – well, yes, my mistake.

I wondered if my "friends" would come to the rescue once they realized I was gone. Suppose not. Too much trouble, probably. Maybe I wouldn't be gone, though. Maybe he'd keep me for a night or two, teach me a lesson about talking back to "superiors" and then let me be on my way.

I gritted my teeth in expectation. The punishment of Gotham's newest mad man would be special, no doubt. But I'd been punished before.

* * *

They took my blindfold off. I was deposited in a room without windows. It looked like an average bedroom, except most of the furniture had been removed.

"Don't make any trouble and you'll live," were the bearded man's last words to me before he shut the door. Friendly type, that one.

I got off the floor and took in my surroundings. I could've been in a random hotel, for all I knew. The room didn't have a personality. It was small and smelled of mold. Apart from two vents too small to crawl into, there was no visible exit out of it, except through the _very_ locked heavy metal door. There _was_ a small closet on one side of the room with a sink and a toilet. Very rudimentary-looking. This was no penthouse.

What alarmed me was the idea that I might stay here for more than one night. I mean, if he just wanted to slap me around a bit, why bother with a room? I sat down on the bed and put my head in my hands. Did he intend to torture me? Did he intend to rape me – or have his men do it while he watched?

My stomach lurched. I felt my throat dry up. I needed to stop thinking these things.

For one, he didn't seem the type to… do that. He was clearly more focused on Gotham. But his men…I didn't know them.

At this rate, my best outcome would be a beating.

_Why did you provoke him? Why'd you have to be so stupid?_

This is what happens when you start thinking you have some degree of power. I had fooled myself into thinking Daggett would offer me a permanent home. He was my longest entanglement, after all. He wasn't – well, he _was_ a bad man, but not the worst out there. I felt saddened by his death, but I mourned something else too. I mourned the future he had promised.

It was funny; hours ago, lying in his bed, that future had scared me so much I'd wanted to jump. Now I just wanted to get it back.

I went to the closet and washed my face. Smears of left-over mascara still trailed down my cheeks. I put my head under the faucet and let the icy water run over my hair. I was grateful I'd kept it short now. It was a small comfort.

I tried to remove the mirror above the sink, but it was bolted fast. There was nothing in the room to break it with. I had to give up on that plan. I wasn't going to cut myself and bleed out just to get a weapon.

Alone, miserable and cold, I crawled into bed and wrapped the thin sheet around me. Daggett was dead and I was the prisoner of a psychotic terrorist. I couldn't grasp it. Finally, the tears came.

* * *

When I woke up, it felt like I'd barely slept, although it could've been hours. Someone was throwing clothes at me. Not the bearded man this time. Different guy. Same friendly demeanor.

"Get dressed."

A pair of ordinary pants, a black T-shirt and some scuffed sneakers. Huh. At least Bane didn't intend to shame me physically by having me stand half-naked in front of him. Of course, some men liked to dress you up before they tore you down.

"Where are we going?"

The man snorted. "Wouldn't you like to know…"

"Am I going to return to this room?" I pressed on, taking my time lacing the shoes.

"Shut up."

"At least tell me how long I slept for."

"Do you want me to shut you up?" His hand clenched around my nape.

Lovely. I was pushed out of the room into a dark corridor. Suppose they didn't need to blindfold me now. I still looked around greedily for any kind of giveaway. If I found it, I wouldn't know what to do with it. But it gave me an occupation. Daggett had always said my mind made no sense to him. He didn't understand how I could act confident in spite of clear evidence that I had no reason to. I think he was trying to psychobabble me. I just accepted what was given to me and worked with that.

There was a mixture of calm and nerves bubbling up in my stomach. It was a familiar sensation. I got this way before every encounter with…well, anyone of power. In the circles I frequented, there were plenty of men like that. I hadn't felt like this in a while, though. I had been with Daggett long enough to stop worrying.

We stopped at a screen-door where two armed men were standing guard. The man holding a hand on my shoulder tapped the screen gently. I didn't hear any signal to go in, but _he_ must have, because he pulled the screen just as carefully, and nudged me inside.

I was expecting a dozen stares, but was met, instead, with one.

Bane was alone. He was sitting cross-legged on a wooden mat. It looked uncomfortable as hell. He didn't seem to mind. His eyes were closed. The only indication that he was awake was his evenly paced breath. The mask looked like an ugly pouch, festering something poisonous inside. He was dressed down, but he still had that heavy vest strapped around his chest, the vest I'd seen at Daggett's – no.

I looked around aimlessly. There was no one in the room with us, but who knew. Shadows could become flesh.

I glanced down. His feet were bare. That simple fact unnerved me the most. Next to his feet there was a small tray with some oranges and apples. And a knife. Right there, in the middle. It gleamed blue among the red and orange.

I licked my lips.

Was this some kind of test? Was I supposed to pass?

My stomach rumbled at the sight of the fruit. I was already dreaming of Daggett's continental breakfasts, but those were far away. He would have been amused to see me now. Amused because I was acting confident again. When I had no reason to.

My thought process went something like this: Bane can hurt me. Bane will hurt me. Until then, food.

I approached him warily, but without much pause. I bent down and carefully, almost like I didn't want to disturb him, I dragged the tray towards me. I sat down on the floor, grabbed the knife and cut an orange in half.

I ate blindly. I stuffed the fruit in my mouth, piece by piece. My fingers were sticky. So was the knife. I licked the blade and stared at my lips' reflection. They looked raw. I swallowed more apple seeds.

When I looked up, he was watching me.

I finished chewing and laid down the knife.

"Thief," he muttered, staring at the tray.

My calm was slowly fading, being replaced by more nerves. My stomach was content, though, which was more important than most things. Like I said, I'd been punished before, so I knew my priorities.

It's true, you want to kill yourself when you're living in a castle in the clouds, but when you're one step closer to a hell hole you suddenly decide you fucking love life.

I pushed the tray back and shuffled some feet away from him.

"Sorry," I managed, swallowing several times to wash down the sweetness.

"You know, you're the first to eat," he spoke, voice rumbling like thunder before the rain.

I cocked my head to the side. The first?

"And you ate everything," he added, turning the empty tray in his hands. "You've been through this before."

"Through…what?" I asked, wiping my mouth.

"Deprivation," he answered simply.

I pursed my lips. "Are you – are you going to let me go, please? If you think I will talk, I guarantee you I _won't_. If they ask me, I don't know who killed Daggett. I don't even know –"

Bane suddenly tightened his grip on the tray. It bent in half under his touch. I flinched.

"What does _not_ make sense," he continued gravely, "is why a high-class prostitute acts like an underpaid whore."

The words cut through my teeth like the blade I'd just licked. I felt sharp needles pricking at my skin.

"I have learned a few things about you, Miss Gurney. One of them is that you've been in the exclusive company of John Daggett for seven months and a half. Another is that, before him, you vacated with various Gotham socialites for a month, three at the most. And lastly, your bank account is quite dry for someone of your occupation."

He'd found out my last name, my bank account, my clients. I tried not to swallow too fast, afraid I'd choke. I felt the skin of an orange slice trapped between my teeth. I would've taken violence over this.

"Yes. That is – correct, I suppose."

"Queer, is it not?"

I nodded my head. Was this a moral inquisition then?

"Thirteen men, in total. But there are more," he spoke, not expecting me to confirm.

So, he was a religious zealot or some kind of disapproving forefather. He wanted to punish me for having too much sex.

"All of them quite powerful and well-positioned in the city, yes?"

"…not all of them," I mumbled. Many of them liked to pretend.

"They passed you around like a plaything to be shared."

I looked at him sharply then. I hoped he'd die a slow and painful death. I hated idiots like him who judged on false pretenses.

"Why?"

"Why did they pass me around?" I echoed with irritation.

"Why did they all want you?"

I blinked.

"What was it about you that kept their interest alive? What did you offer? A man as fastidious as John Daggett could not have been easy to please."

I blinked again. These questions…were not what I had expected.

"I was willing to do some things for them," I answered evenly.

"Willing?"

"I wanted to," I clarified firmly. "I enjoyed most of it."

"And what exactly is "_it_"?"

I swallowed. "Dirty stuff. You don't want to know."

"Quite the opposite. I want to know everything. Leave nothing out."

My eyes widened. "Excuse me -?"

"You heard me."

"I don't understand."

The lines around his eyes crinkled. "Miss Gurney. You had some of the most powerful men in Gotham between your thighs. You know what they like. You know their secrets. They were vulnerable to you. _Especially_, the late John Daggett."

My head was shrinking. Thoughts coming undone. I was trying not to guess what he really wanted. Because if I did, it would mean – it would mean I wouldn't be leaving very soon. Not clean, anyway.

"You will agree you possess some valuable information. The kind that gives you leverage."

"You're overestimating a high-end prostitute," I muttered with disdain.

"And others seem to underestimate you. I know why your bank account is doing poorly. Unlike others, you don't trade in money. You trade in secrets. They want you because you know their secrets. And you are willing to keep them."

I must have looked like an idiot, trying not to gape at him. Terrorists were not supposed to be this…philosophical. Or this accurate.

"But you won't keep them, will you?" he pressed on. "You will tell me. You will help me tear each one down."

I choked on an incredulous laugh.

"What makes you think I can do that? Or that I _will_?"

Bane rose so quickly and unexpectedly I almost fell on my elbows.

"Do not forget where you are. Or who you are with. I did not give you a say, _Maura_. You will do it." He picked up the bent tray and placed it at my feet. The message was clear. Resist and be broken.

"I can't – I don't know what you want –I don't know what you want me to do."

"It's simple," he said, turning his back on me. I could feel shrew eyes watching me still. "Eat their fruit while they are not watching."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: It's been a while, I know. Thank you for your reviews, especially __**K**__ and __**Calliope's Scribe**__ (no, I didn't get my idea from Finnick, but it is pretty similar). I hope you like this chapter!_

* * *

Keep

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I was actually considering his offer.

Not that it was an offer per se, but it _could_ become one. He was telling me I could help him. That meant I had some kind of leverage. I sensed he didn't want to hurt me. He had bigger fish to fry. The question was, would I help him ruin my old clients?

Bane clearly wanted to crack down on all the fat cats in the city. But it didn't seem like a Robin-Hood kind of operation. His end-goal wasn't freeing the working class, or collapsing the banking system. He wanted to plunge Gotham into nightmare. Destroy the city.

Wasn't that what the news reels said? That he was a terrorist?

But I was eating dinner at this terrorist's table.

Bane wasn't around to see me eat this time.

But the man I now identified as Barsad kept watch behind me.

I was sitting in an empty dining hall, made for at least a dozen or so people. But it was just me and his crony.

The food tasted like shit. It was all army stuff, hard and compact, like a pill and nourishing only in the emptiest sense, but I gobbled it up like a good kid. Shameless was my middle name.

"Could I have some more fruit?" I ventured, wanting to see how Barsad would react.

"Eat what you're given," was his curt reply.

"I am. Thanks." Maybe pushing my luck was not the best idea. And yet, I had to keep talking.

"You still can't tell me where we are, can you?"

Barsad didn't even dignify that with an answer.

I reached for the bottle of water and downed its entire contents in one prolonged gulp.

Some of it got on my chin and on my shirt. I heard him make a disgusted noise behind me.

"At least, what time is it?"

"Evening," he muttered.

"Sure, but –"

"Enough chatting."

I shrugged. I was used to guys like him demanding silence; it happened pretty often. If your call-girl has a voice, suddenly the fantasy becomes all too real and you can't enjoy yourself.

That reminded me of a particular client who'd wanted me to scream at the top of my lungs, just so he could have the privilege of silencing me.

"Hey. What do you like?" I ventured, glancing at him over my shoulder with a smile.

He glared at me in silence.

"I mean, from a woman? Do you like women?"

Barsad clenched his fists. His mouth was set in a thin line, but the muscle under his left eye was twitching. Go up to any tough guy and question his sexuality and I guarantee you he'll lose it. They're fragile like that.

"It's okay," I said, when I saw how his nostrils flared. "Sometimes only a man knows how to pleasure another man."

"I like women _fine_," he replied scathingly.

_Maura – 1, Barsad – O. _

"I'm sure you do. What do you like most about them?"

He remained stiff and silent. I smiled. "Personally, I love a woman's thighs the most. They're soft and giving. But they're also really warm and tasty."

I saw him swallow thickly.

"Have you ever sunk your teeth there?" I asked.

_Whack!_ His hand slammed the back of my head. But his fingers were shaking.

_Maura – 2, Barsad – 0._

* * *

I couldn't play that game with Bane. I knew it. He was too powerful and _crazy_ for me to even try. His henchmen, on the other hand, while dangerous, were still human. They cared if a woman thought they were unavailable.

I tried to sweet-talk the man who followed me back to my room. I even tried to touch him, but he slapped my hand away.

The one thing I learned from my protégé, who got me into this business back in the day, was that rape was rape. You could try to make yourself want it, to spare yourself some pain. You could even try to get Stockholm syndrome overnight. But your body knew when the visitor was unwanted.

And yet, I still thought that I could play around with men who were stronger than me. I was an idiot.

"You could come in," I told the guard. "Gets lonely in there. And cold." I rubbed my hands against my thin shirt.

He paused at the door, and though he kept his face neutral, I could see the pause in his body. I could read that pause anywhere.

I didn't have much of a plan. Render him vulnerable, maybe hurt him, maybe even have sex with him, but get _some_ control over this situation.

I stepped closer to him and let my finger run over the zipper of his jacket.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I asked, keeping my voice casual.

He motioned for me to step inside so he could lock up.

"I guess this job keeps you occupied. I know what it's like. I could never keep a man for too long. It's true. We can never have what we want," I mused, taking my finger back.

"Ouch, your zipper's _so_ sharp," I drawled and stuck my finger in my mouth.

His eyes were watching my finger steadily.

I sucked on it, letting my lips form a perfect "O" around the knuckles.

He shuddered and took a step closer. He was eyeing the door now with mistrust.

"I'm so lonely and scared all the time…"I trailed off, and I put the wet finger on his cheek. "Do you know what that's like?"

He didn't remove my hand. He didn't even move.

"Why don't we help each other? I won't tell if you don't," I murmured, drawing closer, until he was only inches away.

"That's enough theater, Miss Gurney."

Shit.

Bane had appeared from the shadows and was walking towards us with measured steps. The guard jumped back, as if he'd been scalded with hot water.

"Sir –"

"Leave now and spare your dignity," Bane growled, pushing the man away with such force that he stumbled.

I tried not to think of how easily a shove like that could make me fall on my knees. I scurried back in my room and sat on the bed with perfect innocence.

Bane stopped at my door, regarding me coolly. There might have been anger in those eyes. Even mirth. I couldn't tell.

"It seems I can't leave you unsupervised."

"I didn't do anything," I said, making my eyes as wide as possible. Deer in the headlights, that kind of shtick. "I was just being nice."

"Hm. I could arrange for you to sleep on the floor of a cellar."

I fidgeted nervously, this time not having to put on an act. "That's not necessary. I'll behave."

Bane nodded gravely and turned to walk away, but he stopped for a moment and regarded me again.

"The finger trick. Does it work on all men?"

I exhaled. "Most of them, yeah."

"It seems…rather childish."

I shrugged. "It is, if you don't know how to do it right."

He raised an eyebrow. "How does one do it _right_?"

"_One_ has to believe in it," I said, mimicking his style.

His expression grew querulous. I backtracked.

"You just have to imagine you're sucking on an actual dick and not your finger. You have to make it real. It takes practice."

I couldn't see his mouth underneath that mask, but he was probably scowling. He struck me as a man above men, holier-than-thou, but also very astute and calculated. He didn't care for parlor tricks, but he still wanted to _know_ them.

"Make it real," he repeated in a garbled voice. "Yes, I know something about that."

I had _no_ idea what he was talking about, but I couldn't imagine that he had ample experience sucking dick. He sounded almost…melancholy, but that couldn't be right.

"Take care that I don't see you _practice_ again," he warned, his voice cool and controlled once more. He locked the door behind him.

* * *

He had installed cameras everywhere. He watched her exchange with Barsad carefully. Yes, she was good. He had been right. He wasn't keeping a simpering fool. She was going to prove an asset.

She was the opposite of his Talia in everything but height.

No, Maura Gurney was more like _him_ than his beloved. She had been inured to flesh and its violence a long time ago.

* * *

I looked over the photos with slight confusion. It was early in the morning and everything was a bit foggy, but I knew the three mugs. Biggest executives at the Gotham Stock Exchange. I'd slept with two of them. The third one had liked to watch me fuck other men.

I looked up, disoriented.

"Didn't you already take over the exchange a few weeks ago?"

His eyes crinkled slightly, as if pleased with my memory.

"Yes. I did. But it wasn't enough."

"Enough for what?"

"Enough to bankrupt Wayne Enterprises. The Bat interrupted my proceedings."

"Yeah, he's the local vigilante, he'll _always_ interrupt," I replied pertly. Shouldn't have done that. He loomed over me like an angry god who had just been profaned. His monstrous constitution left me breathless. He was so _huge_. He didn't even need words. I shrank back.

"What do you want me to do exactly?"

He put a hand on the back of my chair. He pointed one thick finger at the photos.

"We shall go about a different route."

I shook my head. "You could just find them and apply the - the _Daggett_ treatment to them and they'll do whatever you want."

Bane hummed amused. "Do I look like a thug to you, Miss Gurney?"

_Don't say yes, don't say yes, don't say yes…_

"No, of course not."

"While I do enjoy the occasional strangulation, I am a man of subtlety."

I stared at the photos, trying not to cringe at his words.

"You're willing to use _me_ to get to them. That means you want more than just to cause bankruptcies. You want something you can't get with brute force."

The hand tightened on the back of my chair, making me flinch.

"Your input, however clever, is not required. Only your skills. You shall establish a meeting with them."

"Wait," I turned around to look at him. "You're letting me _go_?"

He seemed highly amused by my shock.

"Does the prospect of freedom upset you?"

I choked back a laugh. I was going to be free! I didn't have to worry anymore. I had friends who could help me disappear the moment I got out of this safehouse.

"Of course," he added, "you will be escorted _here_ after you are finished. Otherwise, your body, and its various parts, will grace the Gotham sewers."

Shit. Why did I ever fuck Daggett?

"I would advise you not to doubt my ability to find you…" he trailed off, and the hand that had gripped my chair now descended on me. He ran his fingers softly through the back of my short hair, and the motion was so eerie it made my skin prickle. His thumb pressed down on my nape.

"O-Okay," I replied breathless.

"Good," he rasped. "Now, tell me what these men like, but shouldn't."


End file.
